Its absence from the cartographic record is itself a minor puzzle. The mound is modest in scale, roughly seven metres north to south and just over four metres east to west, rising to less than a metre at its highest western edge. Its sides are relatively vertical, steepest at the south and west, and the surface tilts gently downward from south to north, with stones pushing through the sod on the western face. Nothing about it announces itself.

What makes the site quietly arresting is not any single feature but the uncertainty that surrounds it. No function has been established. It could be a burial monument of some kind, a field clearance heap that accumulated into something more structured, or a remnant of activity entirely unrelated to the monuments clustered nearby. And those neighbours are considerable. Within five hundred metres to the south lie a rath (a type of enclosed farmstead typical of early medieval Ireland, usually defined by an earthen bank and ditch), a mound barrow, a ringbarrow, and at least one further unclassified mound. The concentration suggests this stretch of ground beside the estuary held some significance over a long period, though whether the Ross mound belongs to that same tradition or represents something else entirely remains an open question.

The mound sits in the south-west corner of a field, close to the junction of two field banks, details that place it precisely in the landscape even if they do nothing to explain it. Stones are most visible on the western side, where the grass cover is thinnest. It is the kind of feature that rewards a slow look rather than a quick one.